Dead Silence on Rescue Channel

About this book:

High on Blacktooth Ridge, the winter of 1947 doesn't just arrive—it slams down like an iron gate. Thomas Mercer, a former Signal Corps sergeant turned solitary lookout operator, tends the rescue frequency in a cedar-and-iron cabin buried under four feet of drift. His only job: listen for the Miller party, three local hunters overdue in the gulch below. But at 21:17 hours, the static fractures. A signal of impossible power pins his meter. A voice cuts through—thin, panicked, speaking of structural failure, icing intakes, and a call sign that doesn't exist: *Three-Zero-Nine*. Then silence. Not fade. Not static. Severed.

Valley Base calls it atmospheric skip. A ghost signal bouncing off the ionosphere. But Thomas knows the physics of radio like he knows the scars on his own hands. Skip is hollow, distant, flanging. This was hot. Close. Close enough to bleed violet fire off his antenna insulators. And the sound beneath the voice—a turbine scream no radial engine ever made—came from something falling through the clouds directly above Iron Gorge. Where the Miller brothers are camped. Where no aircraft should be flying.

Now Thomas has a logbook entry no one will believe, a bearing of 309 degrees driven into the map like a knife, and a rising certainty that whatever came down in that storm wasn't civilian. As the blizzard seals the mountain, the search for three missing hunters becomes a race against something far colder than the wind—something that burns canvas, twists steel, and leaves no wreckage anyone is allowed to claim. *Dead Silence on Rescue Channel* is a taut, atmospheric thriller where Cold War secrets hide behind the veil of a mountain storm, and the only way out is to keep listening.